**OLD POST**
So, it has been 2 days and I feel like I can talk about this calmly. After spending some time with family in Texas, Lucas and I were on our way back and on our second day of driving. It was Sunday when we were packing up in our hotel room and so extremely excited to sleep in our own bed and hurried to get the drive over with.

I was just trying to check out of my hotel room so I could drive the 8 hours left to Ankeny from Oklahoma City. I walk into the lobby and there is a tall man with white hair, probably in his 60’s and he was wearing his mask under his chin while he is speaking with the hotel worker. *eye roll*

Already, I sensed uncalled for disrespect. I waited in line patiently and then I realize what is taking so long. The man is berating the woman. From what I could tell (though not 100% sure), he had been woken up at 8am, I'm guessing by a room service mistake. Anyway, this girl is about to cry, but says "Okay Sir," and "Yes, Sir." Anyone who knows me... probably knows what happened next.

I catch the eye of the worker and I say, "I'm sure you did just fine. I'm sure you did the best you could."

She said "Thank you" with a soft voice.

The man turns around and says, "You don't even know what happened!"

To which I say, "I was talking to her, not you.”

He said… wait for it… wait for it….

“Go back to Mexico!”

I laughed aloud. “You racist son of a b*tch,” (in case mom is reading). “Bet you’re really happy about that outcome we just had, huh?”

He said, “I’m sorry. Maybe that was a little bit out of line, but…”

I told him he wasn’t sorry. You just can’t be sorry about something like that. I told him that I was done speaking with him.
He huffed. I’m not kidding you.. huffed out the door like a child.

I apologized to the lady behind the counter who had tears down her cheeks. She was Hispanic. Dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes. Just like me. I asked for her name and go figure, a very Hispanic sounding name. You can connect the dots.

She wiped away tears and said “I’m sorry. I can’t believe he said that to you.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “I can.” I thanked her and wished her a good night.

When I got out to the car, I buckled in and said, “You’ll never believe…” I told him the story. He frantically looked around. “He’s already gone,“ I said. Lucas was shaking with anger. We spent the next couple of hours of our drive back to Iowa talking about how we cannot FATHOM it. What it takes to be racist. We then put on an episode of the Dollop podcast. Recommended, but only if you value honesty. Racists beware.

I stared out the window while Lucas drove and would not, and still will not allow myself to cry about someone else’s hatred. That’s for them to bare. Though, my heart races a little when I think about it.

He looked at me, without even knowing me, my name or anything about me and told me to “Go back to Mexico.” ME. The girl who was raised by a mostly white family. ME. Who almost failed Spanish in high school. ME. Who cannot eat mild queso without something to drink. ME. Who awkwardly mumbles at the gas station to a Hispanic person who politely says “Gracias” for me opening the door for them. I’m not kidding. This has happened multiple times. De Nada Bri, DE NADA. Me. Who was wearing a Cowboy Capital of the World shirt that I had just gotten from Bandera, Texas.

And yet, here we are. For the most part, I don’t deal with direct discrimination or racism. Usually subtle, harmless remarks like, “I forgot you were Mexican,” or assuming I speak Spanish. Honest mistakes. I don’t fault anyone for ignorance. It’s blatant hatred that I despise. Hate is a strong word, but I feel like it’s fair to hate, hate. It’s not usually hard for me to “Spread the message of love,” but I’ve got to say… this has been a tough ride. Especially this stop. It almost got me.

On our way out of the south, we started seeing less and less billboards for Trump and I was relieved. Some may say it isn’t about this. You can believe that. But for me, it very much is. I don’t know what will happen next, but I know that this small dose of hatred I have experienced, is only a fraction of what others deal with every day. And maybe, just maybe, there is a better tomorrow for them.

It saddens me. It truly does. And if it doesn’t sadden you. CHECK YO SELF. Check your friends, your family. You don’t have to agree with everyone you know or meet, but goddamnit stop this racist bullsh*t already (sorry mom). It’s a slight inconvenience to me, but to many, it’s a living hell out there.

Did you make it this far?

If you did, thanks.